


coming quietly undone

by MisanthropyMuse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Battle, Blow Jobs, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Early Clone Wars (Star Wars), Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Communication (Star Wars), Hair Washing, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mentioned 501st Legion (Star Wars), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, Naked Cuddling, Porn with Feelings, Post-Battle, Romantic Fluff, Shower Sex, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), Top Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisanthropyMuse/pseuds/MisanthropyMuse
Summary: “So, now’s later?” asks Anakin softly, one corner of his lips curling in amusement at the incoherent sentence that can only make sense for the two of them.“Force, yes,” responds Obi-Wan in a heavy sigh of relief, before raising his head and crashing his lips onto Anakin’s.So there's fighting battle droids, Anakin bonding with clone troopers, and then Obi-Wan and Anakin find comfort in each other with shower sex with a frankly overwhelming amount of feelings and fluff.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 126





	coming quietly undone

Obi-Wan swings his lightsaber to intercept another wave of blaster fire before ducking behind the carcass of a tank they had blown up earlier. He leans against the cold surface, feeling the sweat on his back cool down in a way that becomes quickly unpleasant, and takes a deep breath.

He’s tired.

This was supposed to be an easy mission, only two platoons to take back the citadel with the support of two Jedi Generals, while the rest of the battalion took care of the smaller cities and fortifications scattered all over the planet. The citadel turned out to be better guarded than expected though, and the battle has been drawing out too long already, wave after wave of battle droids coming out at them and too few troopers to fight them quickly enough to advance. Every time they make it near the enemy stronghold, another wave comes out of their shielded gates and pushes them back again. The Separatists clearly want to tire them out to the point of complete retreat, and they definitely cannot afford that.

They need a new plan. The only one he can think of, given what limited time and patience he has, includes putting himself at risk in order to allow the clones enough cover to advance, disable the plasma bridge and blow up the gates. It’s not a bad plan in itself, it’s a strategy that’s worked well in the past, and the he’s well aware of his own limits and wouldn’t be throwing himself purposefully into danger if he didn’t know he could make it out just fine.

The hardest part would be, as always, to convince Anakin to follow his orders without raising objections.

He takes a deep breath before switching on his comms.

“Anakin, listen…” he starts and rolls his eyes as he’s immediately interrupted by his former Padawan’s fretting.

“Obi-Wan! Where are you? Are you alright?” his words rush out in a slur. The sound of blaster fire is clear in the background, and his voice is strained with the effort of parring the shots, but still he finds the strength to worry about Obi-Wan.

It would be heart-warming if it wasn’t so inconvenient.

“I’m fine, Anakin. I have a plan. Please just listen?” he responds calmly, and after a beat of silence from Anakin he continues. “I need you to order the men to push all droid troops towards the square at the end of the main street. I’ll- please listen!” he exclaims when he hears him trying to interrupt again. “I’ll hold them off until they’re all here, then I’ll pretend to surrender. Tell Rex to lead a small squad to disable the bridge and open the gates, while you and the rest of the men come get the droids from behind.”

“Master, you can’t-” Anakin tries to argue, but Obi-Wan cuts him off.

“We’ve done this before, Anakin. It’ll work,” he says, trying to hold back his annoyance at the younger Jedi’s hesitation. He appreciates his concern, he truly does, but sometimes he wishes he could just give an order and expect him to comply without having to _convince_ him.

His worry and his fear spill out uncontrolled through their bond as his mind flicks through countless scenarios of how wrong this could go. Obi-Wan distantly curses all the time spent trying to teach him to focus on the present and let go of his fears, evidently in vain, at least when it comes to the safety of those Anakin cares about the most.

Luckily, time has also taught him how to deal with it.

“Trust me,” he says, and it’s all Anakin needs. Not a useless reprimand, or a harsh order, but a gentle reminder of who he is, who they are, and what they can achieve if they work together.

“Alright,” Anakin breaths out. “I’ll tell the men.”

His comm goes off and he allows himself a sigh of relief. It was easier than expected, though never as straightforward as it should be. He makes the conscious decision of not being mad at Anakin for worrying about his safety, just grateful that, for once, he was willing to listen and follow his lead.

_Right_ , he tells himself. _Back into action_.

He peeks over the tank to check that there’s still a good distance between him and what is left of the droids who had been following him, then puts his fake retreat plan in motion. Reaching out into the Force, he sends a stack of crates flying into the small platoon and, as the alarmed droids direct their attention at the distraction, he starts running down the street. It’s a success. By the time the droids realise his ruse and one of them spots him, he’s already half a klick ahead of them.

He stretches out his perception as to feel the blaster shots being fired at him and be able to dodge them without having to slow down. He leaps behind pieces of scrap metal, blown up speeders and tanks, doing the most to avoid being caught in the line of fire without losing sight of the enemy, who keeps obstinately marching behind him. Their orders were to block and pursue, and no evasive tactic would stop them from doing that.

“Anakin!” he calls through his comm as he approaches the crossroad where the narrow street opens up on the square. “I’m almost at the square,” he says without waiting for an answer. Still, he receives only static and the sound of distant shots.

He lets half a minute pass, then he calls again. “Anakin, come in!”

_Focus on the now_ , he has to reminds himself to stop his fears from overwhelming him.

Just when he’s about to switch communication channel to Rex, Anakin finally responds.

“Sorry, Master, I was-” An explosion cuts him off for a second, and Obi-Wan hears him cough before he speaks again. “Doesn’t matter. We turned all troops towards the square. A squad is leading them on, you might hear-” Another explosion, louder now, echoing both through the comm and from a point just behind the line of houses Obi-Wan’s running along. “Some of that.”

Despite everything, Obi-Wan lets out a soft chuckle. Anakin just had to put his own chaotic spin on the plan. He just hopes the soldiers are being careful with it.

“What about Rex?” he asks then.

“He’s in position, hiding near the canyon, waiting on your signal.”

“Good,” says Obi-Wan, and a small wave of satisfaction ripples from Anakin side of their bond. “See you in a bit, then.”

As he says this, he finally reaches the end of the street and finds himself in the square, a massive crescent-shaped open space, littered with broken market stalls, abandoned crates of merchandise and the dusty ruins of a few speeders and repulsorcarts. Several parts of the pavement have been blown up and piles of broken up cobblestones can be found anywhere.

For a second, Obi-Wan is overwhelmed by the shadow of the feelings that linger over the place. Only war is capable of causing such pain, fear so strong that it attaches itself to material objects once associated with familiarity, with comfort, and even joy. If he focuses, he can almost see it, the lingering ghost of a memory trembling like a mirage in the Force. A market day like any other, peaceful, ordinary, until it wasn’t.

He shakes himself out of it with a sigh. He doesn’t have time to dwell on this. He needs to act now, quick and efficient, so that the inhabitants of the planet can have a chance a finding peace again.

He uses the Force to lift some of the objects scattered around him and push them towards the bottom of the square, making a rudimentary barricade. When he’s satisfied with its height and the shape looks solid enough, he climbs it until he’s sitting right on top, perched on what’s left of the seating of a speeder.

From there, he has a perfect view on all the streets leading down to the square, and he can see the droids approaching, following the trail of small explosions planted along the street. Obi-Wan sits, closes his eyes, and focuses on the rhythmic cadence of the clanging of metal feet on the cobblestones, letting it lull him into a light meditative state. He waits like this, dipping into the Force to calm his heart, recover some of his strength and draw on the focus he needs for the upcoming battle.

When he opens them again he’s not sure of how much time has passed, but he’s now staring at a solid line of battle droids, all the troops joined in a proper army that takes up the entire square and slowly marches towards him. B1s and B2s stand in orderly lines, their weapons raised and charged but on stand-by. There are four tanks lining the rear, and several droidekas ready to roll out.

Even in their rudimentary programming something must feel off, because they’ve all stopped shooting once they’ve realised the only enemy they’re faced with is a lone man on top of a pile of ruins, and some of them are even throwing glances all around, trying to find a reason for that scenario in their database.

Swallowing down his grin, Obi-Wan raises his arms as high as he can, making sure that the OOM-Command droid in the frontline can see him clearly.

“I surrender!” he declares loudly, and his voice echoes in the vast open space.

“What?” he can hear the command droid say. It turns to his side, tilting its metal head in confusion. “What’s the protocol for this?” it asks.

While the droids are distracted by their own bickering, Obi-Wan opens the comlink on his forearm and sends a short series of taps and pauses. His signal to Rex. After receiving confirmation in the same coded language, he finally stands up on top of his makeshift stage, and beckons the attention of the droids again.

“So? Are you taking me in or what?” he asks.

Finally, the droid pulls out a holocom and calls its superior for instructions.

From that distance Obi-Wan can make out the shape of a T-1 and someone he doesn’t recognise, probably someone local on the payroll of the Separatists. They wouldn’t leave someone actually good to oversee such a small operation. Big mistake, he thinks. They rely far too much on droids.

He only registers bits of the conversation between the commander and the tactical droid, reaching him vaguely as he focuses to reach out to Anakin through their bond.

_Ready?_ he sends.

_At your signal._

“Well, I’m afraid you took too long. I changed my mind,” he calls out to the droids.

He allows himself to grin at their confusion, and then, without further hesitation, he draws on the Force to propel himself into the air, leaping several feet over enemy lines, somersaulting mid-air and then landing gracefully right behind a line of super battle droids.

_Now!_ he sends at Anakin, and with that he ignites his lightsaber and disappears into the fight.

He cuts down the first circles around him with no effort, helped by the surprise attack. Then he sends out a Force wave, pushing even more of them back, and leaps up again.

“Shoot him!” comes an order from a distant tinny voice.

A wave of blaster fire comes a fraction of a second later, just as Obi-Wan lands again, leading them to shot at each other. At the same time, the troopers jump down from the rooftops of the houses lining the square, surround the droid army and start shooting them down before they can react.

The advantage of the ambush wears out quickly, and soon it’s a battle like any other. The clones fight with courage, following well known techniques, almost out of muscle memory. Obi-Wan, sunk deep into a meditative trance, moves tirelessly among the mechanical army, dodging the shots he can’t par and cutting down everything that comes close enough to his lightsaber.

At the edge of his perception, he feels Anakin flare up in the Force. He tries not to let it distract him, as losing his focus now would be deadly, but he can’t shut him out completely. He’s too powerful, his signature too bright, his pull on the Force too strong to go unnoticed. Obi-Wan doesn’t need to reach out to feel the adrenaline and excitement radiating from him, as always, having a good time in the worst of moments.

A clone has taken control of one of the tanks and is now shooting down the others, taking a good number of B1s and super battle droids in its stride.

Then, just as he’s stopping to assess the situation, a sharp pang of pain tears through him, a roar shaking down his soul, violently ripping him out of his trance. It takes him a second to realise it’s not his own pain he feels, but Anakin’s. A shot grazed his shoulder, and in his distraction another brushed against his hip.

Obi-Wan turns around just in time to see two droids approach Anakin from behind as he’s cutting down the ones that almost hit him, and he doesn’t have to think. His arm snaps out instinctively and the Force whips at his command, pulling the droids up, away from Anakin, and then forward in a sharp tug, cracking them in half.

He lets the carcasses fall and, with no pause, runs to Anakin’s side, taking a defensive stance between him and a line of raised blasters. It’s anger he draws on for his next move, and he’s not surprised it leads him to take a page out of Anakin’s book. He throws his lightsaber at them, faster than they can shoot, guiding it to cut down their weapons first and then their heads, that fall on the cobblestones with a loud clang as he pulls his weapon back into his hand.

The sound echoes across the square, and then a heavy silence comes to rest over them.

Anakin’s the first to break it, with a whimper and a broken whisper. “Master,” he calls out.

Obi-Wan whips around so fast it makes him dizzy, that sound worrying him that Anakin’s wounds were more serious than he’d initially assessed. When he looks at him, though, it’s not pain that’s rattling him.

He’s pale and panting and covered in sweat, but it’s not just exhaustion that’s shaking through his parted lips, and Obi-Wan recognises the way his eyes look down at him, with their usual sky blue darkened and pupils blown so big he looks spiced.

Anakin licks his lips and it sends a familiar warmth to stir up Obi-Wan’s insides.

Force help them, he’d- _Kriff_.

Both their comlinks start blinking at the same time, pulling them out of the moment and back into the more important matter at hand.

“Rex, come in,” Anakin is the first to answer.

“The gate’s down, General. How’s the army?”

“Still smoking,” responds Anakin with a grin. “We’re coming your way now.”

The battle’s far from finished, they know, but the importance of their duty doesn’t make the wait for rest any less frustrating. That’s why, before moving again, to guide the remaining tanks back through the main street and finally into the citadel, Obi-Wan takes a second to squeeze Anakin’s hand.

“Later,” he promises in a whisper before pulling away.

_Later_ , repeats Anakin through their bond.

And on they march.

***

Later doesn’t come until well into the local evening, after more fighting against the citadel guards, taking out what was left of Separatist droids and negotiating the surrender of the local chief who had betrayed the Republic.

Anakin gladly left that last part to Obi-Wan, taking his old master’s advice - well, technically an order - to get on the first round of LAAT gunships flying back to the Resolute so he could get his wounds cleaned before they got infected.

Kix checks him over while laughing at his recounting of the battle, applies a bacta patch on each luckily superficial blaster burn and sends him off to the mess with a recommendation to have a light meal, take his painkillers and get some rest.

“Actual rest!” he yells at his back as he left the med bay, and Anakin waves his worries away with one hand without turning back.

The mess is almost empty when Anakin gets there, with most of the battalion still down on the planet. The few who got back and were already cleared by the medics are sitting around two tables at one end of the room, and that’s where Anakin takes his tray.

He notices most have relatively few scratches on their armours and little decoration on their helmets. They must be from the newer squads sent from Kamino. They’re caught up in a lively recount of the battle in one of the provincial fortifications. One of them is using his cutlery to do a very accurate impression of a conversation between two droids, making the others laugh.

Anakin walks around them and goes to sit down at a nearby table, and he’s glad to just sit back and listen to their excited chatter, remembering the few times when he got to eat with other Padawans at the Temple and everyone would boast the strangest, most dangerous missions their Masters brough them on. He never felt this level of camaraderie with the other apprentices, though. Most times, he feels way more at ease spending time with clone troopers than he ever did with most other Jedis.

He’s ripped from his train of thoughts when someone finally looks over at his table and notices him.

“General Skywalker!” someone calls him out. “Congratulations on your win!” he adds then, thankfully skipping on formalities.

The first thing everyone seems to learn when they join the 501st is that Anakin is not the kind of General to care about etiquette and ranks.

“Yeah, Charger sent out a holovid,” someone else intervenes. “We watch so many of them in training, but no one’s ever seen General Kenobi fight like that before.”

Despite his slight embarrassment, Anakin has to smile at that, hoping his expression doesn’t betray the way his chest tightens up at the memory of how Obi-Wan had sliced through the lines of clankers, spinning on the cobblestones as if light as air, peaceful and focused until…

“He really outdid himself today,” he agrees, taking himself back into the room before his train of thoughts can derail in dangerous territory.

“Have you used that strategy before?” another trooper asks, and everyone turns towards Anakin now. He can feel their excitement as well as see it light up in their widened eyes and tentative smiles.

A wiser Jedi would decline the opportunity for praise, maybe even turned it into a lesson on humility, or on the importance of not glamourising violence and danger, but not him, not today, not to his men. They all know far too well what they’re living through, and it’s always good for morale to hear about past successes. That, and he’s glad for any opportunity to distract him from thinking about Obi-Wan.

So they don’t have to ask twice before he launches into a retelling of an old mission in a strategic mid-rim planet. The plan had been a combined idea from Rex and Ahsoka, and that time Anakin had been sent in as bait. The men stare at him completely enraptured as he tells them of how he had leapt right over a line of super battle droids, cutting all of them down mid-jump, before landing in the middle of a circle of droidekas and having to be rescued by Ahsoka and three troopers.

They laugh at that, awe shining on their identical faces, and Anakin can’t help remembering Obi-Wan’s wildly different reaction to that same story. He had been so upset it was almost scary, but the memory of how Anakin had offered, and managed, to soothe his anger makes it almost worth it.

He shakes the memory away and focuses back on the troopers, who are now debating on what each of them would have done in the same situation.

“You’d need at least two Jedis to make that work, though,” someone points out.

“I’ve seen similar ambushes work out fine without Jedis, but I wouldn’t recommend jumping in the middle of a droid army without a lightsaber to back you up,” says Anakin with a light chuckle that is mirrored by the troopers.

“It’s always so cool, the way you just seem to feel the shots before they’re even fired!” a clone says, and Anakin nods.

“We do. We learn how to keep a constant connection to the Force while fighting, that allows us to anticipate our enemy’s moves. With lots of training, of course. I’m not yet as good at it as Master Kenobi is,” he explains, bowing his head lightly on the last words, in a show of humility.

In many ways, he’s a fiercer warrior than Obi-Wan. He’s stronger and more vicious and more in tune with his wilder instincts, but Obi-Wan effortlessly beats him in agility, precision and concentration. Then, if they were ever to fight one against the other, Obi-Wan would sure be able to counter his every move, as there’s very little of what Anakin knows that he hasn’t learned from him.

“Is that how General Kenobi knew you were in danger?” the question comes from the same clone. Some of his brothers throw warning glances at him, probably thinking that type of questions is a bit too probing even for someone as down to earth as Anakin.

In truth, Anakin doesn’t mind it one bit, as long as the clone is satisfied with a short answer. The longer and more truthful explanation is not something he should be sharing with anyone.

“Yes,” he says then. “But not all Jedi can do that,” he adds, cryptically, and as the trooper nods, a few around him seem to relax a little.

Before anyone can come up with any further question, Anakin’s comlink starts blinking rapidly, and he smiles as he recognises Obi-Wan’s frequency.

“Speak of the devil,” he mutters to himself. “Sorry, troopers, duty calls. The General just got back with the rest of the battalion,” he announces to the men as he gets up from the bench.

“Thank you for the talk, General!” someone chimes before he can leave, and others join in, in a small chorus of thanks and goodbyes.

He smiles at his men, with fondness and pride, and he’s more than sincere as he responds, “Any time, troopers,” and bids them a good night of rest.

He leaves his empty tray in the arms of a cleaning droid and all but runs out of the mess before answering Obi-Wan’s comm.

“My room or yours?” he chirps happily, not bothering to check if Obi-Wan’s even alone first.

He expects him to reprimand him, or at least to dissimulate and remind him of some other duty they need to attend to, but all he gets instead is a curt, “Mine,” spoken in a low growl, before the comm closes again.

A shot of concern spikes through Anakin, making him freeze in his steps.

Obi-Wan had been fine when he left him in the citadel. Tired and annoyed and more then ready to get back to the cruiser, but fine. He hopes his mood is only a result of exhaustion, because few things could have soured it so, and none of them good.

_He would have told me if something’d gone wrong_ , he tries to tell himself, though he’s not too sure of it.

Knowing he’d been injured, Obi-Wan would have wanted to spare him having to fly out of the _Resolute_ again in case of danger. Obviously, he reasons, someone else, like Rex or Fives, would have called him if the presence of another Jedi had been necessary.

In any case, he knows better than to ignore his directions when Obi-Wan’s already in a bad mood, so he turns on his heels and makes his way towards the sleeping quarters for higher ranking officers. He lets himself into Obi-Wan’s room and briefly ponders on what to do. He doesn’t know how long Obi-Wan will take to join him, but he figures he would appreciate finding him clean instead of still caked in sweat and dust from the earlier battle.

Exhaustion starts to set in on him, weighing on his shoulder as he lets hot water run on his hair and back. He sighs deeply, rubbing his hands on his face to wipe away his sudden sleepiness and turns down the heat as he starts washing out dust and debris from his hair. He brushes the knots out slowly, allowing himself some of the time he usually doesn’t have for self-care. Once he’s satisfied with the condition of his hair, he grabs a washcloth and starts scrubbing away all sorts of gunk from his skin, careful not to touch the bacta patches.

He’s bent down checking out a new scar on his leg he doesn’t know how he got when the door of the refresher slides open with a soft woosh, startling him so much he almost slips on the wet shower floor.

“Did you leave some hot water for me?” comes Obi-Wan’s voice, soft and low pitched, as Anakin turns around.

What little calm he had recovered at the sound of his voice disappears again once he sees him standing completely naked in front of the open shower.

Anakin wants to swear, but the words get caught in his throat, and all that escapes his lips is a breathless whimper, a pained little sound that, however pathetic, makes Obi-Wan smile as he steps into the shower, into Anakin’s personal space, under the steaming jet of water. He doesn’t stop until he’s close enough that Anakin can count the freckles on his nose, until the water catches on his eyelashes, and there he reaches up to cup Anakin’s face and, ever so gently, kisses him.

Pressed against his own, Anakin can feel his chest rise and fall as he breaths him in, slowly, deeply. In the Force that surrounds them, he can sense him releasing his feelings, as if that kiss worked as a focus for meditation, an anchor to stabilise his soul in desperate need for peace.

Anakin can sense anger and fear and doubt and regret, rippling around the both of them for a moment and then fizzling out of their consciousness. As Obi-Wan deepens the kiss, pressing further into Anakin’s lips, moving closer into his whole body, his signature vibrates with a whole new set of feelings that resonate through their bond and into Anakin’s mind.

He allows himself to relish in the wave of affection washing over him, warmer than the water from the showerhead. The purest fondness, an overwhelming sense of comfort and familiarity, trickling down their souls, soothing their loaded minds and heavy hearts, to then, finally, fill them with peace.

When Obi-Wan pulls away from the kiss, he only does it so he can lean in, closer again, wrapping his arms delicately around Anakin’s waist and hiding his face into the curve of his neck, breathing him in. Anakin instinctively brings his flesh hand to rub soothing circles on his back, while his mechno-fingers run gently through his hair, careful not to tear them.

“Are you okay?” asks Anakin in a whisper barely louder than the water.

Obi-Wan nods into his skin, and as he nuzzles the side of Anakin’s neck and presses a kiss on the underside of his jaw, he sends a soft ‘ _I am now’_ through their bond.

“Negotiations were more complicated than expected,” he explains then, voice slow and heavy, as if talking was causing him physical strain. “They tried to fight. Just the chief and his two personal guards, but they shot two troopers before I could stop them.”

“They’re fine,” he adds as Anakin’s concern spikes up. “Or, Kix said they will be.”

“And the Seps?” asks Anakin after letting out a sigh of relief.

“Arrested. We’ll have to go back to the planet tomorrow and negotiate a proper treaty with whomever they choose to represent them.”

“Tomorrow?” says Anakin.

“Tomorrow,” repeats Obi-Wan.

That means, for them, a few hours of sleep and an early morning, but also a few hours to spend together, to soothe each other’s worries and regrets, and to fuck away what little energy they’ve got left.

“So, now’s later?” asks Anakin softly, one corner of his lips curling in amusement at the incoherent sentence that can only make sense for the two of them.

“Force, yes,” responds Obi-Wan in a heavy sigh of relief, before raising his head and crashing his lips onto Anakin’s.

It’s not comfort he seeks now, licking into Anakin’s mouth, fingers digging into his hips. There’s a haste in his gestures, a sense of urgency tightening in his chest, and Anakin knows that all his old master needs now is to lose control for a while, and he’s more than happy to help.

His flesh hand slides slowly down his back, caressing the curve of his ass, feeling toned muscles clench and shiver under his touch. He then wedges his hand between the tight press of their bodies and wraps his fingers around Obi-Wan’s already half-hard cock.

He hears his breath hitch at the touch, and smiles against his lips.

“I’ve been thinking about this _all_ day,” Anakin whispers, tilting his head to nuzzle Obi-Wan’s bearded cheeks, his hand stroking him slowly.

“Oh, have you?” Obi-Wan breaths out, the amused tilt in his words failing to hide a choked moan escaping from the bottom of his throat.

Anakin nods and makes a little sound of assent as he moves to leave a trail of kisses down Obi-Wan’s neck.

“Is that why you got distracted during battle?” Obi-Wan teases, and even if Anakin knows he’s joking, it still stings a little to be reminded of his shortcomings.

“Yes,” he says anyway, his tone light. “It’s your fault for being too hot when you fight.” He accompanies his words with a sharp turn of his wrist around the base of Obi-Wan’s cock, and relishes at the sound of his startled moan.

Obi-Wan swallows down his arousal and recovers himself enough to produce a dry, “Of course,” followed by an amused snort.

“And it’s just too much fun to have you come to my rescue,” Anakin adds, his tone softer now, loaded with all his fondness and gratitude, leaning in to press a light kiss on his lips.

“I’m glad you enjoy making me worry for your safety,” Obi-Wan responds with calculated dryness. The smirk that curls his lips doesn’t completely hide the hurt behind his words, not for Anakin at least, who can feel it as clearly as if it was his own.

“Just as much as I know you enjoy saving me,” says Anakin, pulling away so that he can look at Obi-Wan’s face as he says that.

He watches as the older Jedi’s expression softens, all sorts of annoyance melting from his eyes and turning into affection. They just look at each other for a long second, with mirroring fond smiles and, in their eyes, the same glint showing all the emotions they don’t need to express out loud.

Obi-Wan’s the first to break the moment. “I’d rather not see you in danger at all,” he says, pulling Anakin closer again. They both ignore the way he swallows and averts his eyes before hugging Anakin to his chest, pressing his lips to his cheek and taking a deep breath on his wet skin.

“I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin whispers into his ear.

His hands move back on his body, both going to rest on the small of his back.

“Will you let me make it up to you?” he purrs, and Obi-Wan outright _whines_. A delicious sound to Anakin’s ears, the best, really, to represent the spike of desire he can feel rise from the depth of his Master’s consciousness.

Anakin doesn’t need any more confirmation than that, and he lets his own arousal and eagerness flow freely through the Force as, without further hesitation, he drops on his knees in front of Obi-Wan.

With his last fragment of coherent thinking, Obi-Wan has the good sense of turning off the shower, so that the water doesn’t completely blind Anakin, who’s kneeling right at the centre of it.

Anakin sends him a nudge of gratitude through their bond, and then pushes Obi-Wan against the wet transparisteel panel behind him. He hears him gasp as he straightens his erection with his left hand and presses his lips on the tip before opening them up and slowly sliding down on it, inch by inch, amused by the way Obi-Wan’s Force signature stirs around him, growing heavier and more mellow at the same time as he takes him in his mouth.

He slides down until his nose touches the soft hair at the base, and then, just as slowly, comes back up, to linger on the tip to suck, one, two, three times, before letting go with an obscene pop of his lips.

“Kriff, Anakin,” breaths out Obi-Wan, and Anakin’s attempt at an innocent smile is ruined by the evident arousal in his eyes at the sight of Obi-Wan’s toned chest heaving and wet and flushed. Force, he’d want to lick him dry, kiss every freckle, suck on those deliciously red nipples.

He’s evidently being a bit too open with his desires, as Obi-Wan shakes his head and says, “Not now, my dear.” The older Jedi reaches out to caress his head. He looks into his eyes, half-lidded but still as intense as ever, smiles gently and says, “I’d like you to finger yourself, instead. Please?”

Now it’s Anakin’s turn to bite back a curse. No matter how many times he hears it, he never fails to be impressed at how Obi-Wan can say the filthiest things in such a tender tone, though he’s learned to notice the underlying low growl of desire resonating through the Force that exudes from him.

“Yes, Master,” he replies meekly, the way he knows he likes.

He keeps his eyes fixed in Obi-Wan’s as he sucks on his mechno-finger, slicking them up properly before reaching behind himself and slowly pressing one inside.

“Good boy,” says Obi-Wan with a little smile, running a hand through his hair, and Anakin’s chest tightens at the praise, a misplaced sense of pride mixing with the pleasure he’s causing himself.

In way of thanks, he brings his flesh hand to tighten around the base of Obi-Wan’s cock and he tilts his head to run the flat of his tongue along his full length, from the bottom to the top. He watches as his pupils blow out and his lips tighten, and he sees a nerve near his nose twitch as he wraps his lips around him again and sucks hard on the tip, before starting to move at a more regular pace, up and down, letting him hit the back of his throat at every lunge, while he pushes another finger into his ass.

He presses his tongue flat against the width of Obi-Wan and lets his saliva slick him up properly before coming up to focus his attentions on the tip, sucking it hard and then swirling his tongue around it, while stroking the rest loosely with his left hand.

He listens to Obi-Wan’s breath come out heavy and irregular, accompanied by low moans, and just that, with the combined pleasure of sucking his cock and fingering himself, would almost be enough to lead him to come untouched.

He doesn’t have to, of course.

“Come here,” Obi-Wan calls him, voice rough but his tone still gentle, half-way between an order and an invitation. Whatever it is, Anakin obeys with no hesitation, taking his fingers out and standing up.

Obi-Wan pulls him into a hasty kiss before making him turn around and pushing him across the shower to press him against the opposite wall. He kisses his shoulder, nibbles at his neck, sucks on his earlobe before nuzzling his hair and asking, always the gentleman, “Did you open yourself up for me?”

Anakin nods, words catching in his throat, again overwhelmed by that tone, blade and ointment at the same time, cutting burning wounds in his insides and soothing them immediately.

And still, there’s an urgency in the way he handles him, borne out of desire, sure, but something else too, something deeper and darker. Thankfully, Anakin doesn’t have to dwell on it right now, as Obi-Wan slides a hand between his legs to spread them apart, lines his cock up to his ass and slowly pushes inside.

Pleasure rips through him like lightning, resonating in a loud moan out his mouth. A series of swear words in Huttese run trough his mind, or maybe he says them, he’s not quite sure, as Obi-Wan wraps his arm around Anakin’s waist and bottoms out into him, holding him impossibly close. His chest is scalding against his back, as is every spot where his fingers dig into his flesh, where his lips kiss him.

“I’ve been thinking about _this_ all day,” Obi-Wan whispers into his ear, teeth scraping against his lobe. “The way you looked at me earlier,” he continues, pulling out half-way and pushing back in again. “I wanted to take you right there.” Again. “Have you like this.” Again. “In front of everyone.”

At that, Anakin just melts, mentally and physically and in every other possible way. It’s one thing to know, rationally, how Obi-Wan feels about him, but to hear it spoken in that soft growl of his, to feel it burning on his own skin, to sense it in the Force that moves around them, churning like the sea in a storm, dangerous and inescapable, that is something else entirely.

All he can say, mumbling and breathless, is, “You have me now”, and it seems to be the right thing.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agrees, amusement and fondness dripping from his voice. He moves Anakin’s hips a little, bringing him to stand slightly bent down with his mechno-arm pressed against the wet tiles and the other hand holding onto Obi-Wan’s thigh, and rams into him as deep as he can, groaning, “I have you now.”

Anakin all but screams, instinctively stifling the sound against the durasteel in front of him, or trying to, before Obi-Wan grabs his hair and tugs at them, pulling his head back, freeing his mouth and relishing at the broken moan that escapes from it.

“Like that, dear one. I want to hear you,” he says.

He keeps his hair firmly in his hand, keeping Anakin on the edge of the sort of pain he knows he enjoys, and fucks into him in long thrusts, while holding him still with a strong grip on his hip. At that pace, Anakin knows they could go on for hours, pleasure building excruciatingly slow to drag them over the edge. He knows because they’ve done it before, in some of their rare days off at the Temple, when lazy morning cuddles easily turned into lazy sex marathons.

Now, however, as it is often the case during a mission, neither of them has the patience nor the energy to keep it up for long. After a couple of minutes, Obi-Wan starts to pick up speed, and soon his movements become more frantic.

They’re both silent now, except for moans and groans and broken unintelligible whispers, communicating only through their bond, sharing feelings and fragments of incoherent thoughts, both sensing the other’s pleasure as real as their own. When Anakin moves his flesh hand to start stroking himself, Obi-Wan groans into his shoulder as he receives the new source of stimulation through their combined ecstasy.

The adrenaline rush leading up to an orgasm is, easily, the best thing Anakin has ever experienced. More intense than fighting, more exhilarating than flying, way more satisfying than meditating. As he feels it approaching, he turns his head as far back as he can and Obi-Wan forcefully slants his mouth on his, joining their irregular breaths and matching moans. He licks hungrily into his mouth and then bites his lower lip, tugging on his hair on the other side, and Anakin just breaks.

His vision goes blurry, his whole body tenses, he whines and sobs and gasps, and it feels a bit like coming out of hyperspace, all of time and space compressing his lungs, just for a second, before he explodes in release.

He doubles over, seed spilling between his finger on the shower wall, and in the Force his orgasm is a solar flare, blinding and scorching, sweeping up Obi-Wan in its shockwave, leading him to come only a few seconds later, filling him up after the last desperate thrusts.

The feeling of his orgasm mixes with Anakin’s in their tangle in the Force, elevating his pleasure to a level that seems impossible, just like every other time. Anakin’s muscles relax all at the same time and his head is swimming in bliss and for a long moment nothing feels real. It’s like floating in zero gravity while sunk in deep meditation, one with the Force that’s radiating pure pleasure from and into him, and it’s his soul, more than anything physical, that feels profoundly satiated. He’s not even sure if he’s standing or sitting down, his perception completely, deliciously busted.

That, until a sudden stream of water hits his back from overhead, as Obi-Wan turns the shower back on, bringing him quite unceremoniously back to reality. He finds himself still bent over against the shower wall, his knees miraculously still holding his weight despite them feeling made of jelly. When he moves, very slowly, to straighten up and turn around, he feels Obi-Wan’s chuckle behind him.

“Are you alright, my dear?” he asks, an amused tilt in his tired voice.

Anakin nods and lets out a soft whine as he takes a step towards him to join him under the showerhead. He gives him a dazed smile and leans in for a kiss, a gentle pressure, just lips locking together for a moment, before pulling away and making him turn around. Without asking, Anakin takes a dollop of soap and starts washing Obi-Wan’s hair while he uses a new washcloth to scrub sweat and dirt from his body. Anakin gently untangles the knots in the lengths and then massages his scalp the way he knows he likes, the one that makes him moan lightly as his shoulders go slack and his head tilts back, leaning into Anakin’s hands.

He lets him enjoy it until he senses his relaxation get dangerously close to drowsiness, and then starts washing the soap out. Obi-Wan groans out a complaint when he stops massaging him, but he understands the reasoning, and busies himself with getting the last few spots off his legs before turning the water off.

They toddle silently out of the shower, legs unsure, both from the afterglow and general exhaustion, and go stand in the drying area together, and, as the warm air wipes most of the lingering droplets off them, Anakin pulls Obi-Wan into a kiss, slow and sloppy but still, Force, always enough to rekindle the supposedly satisfied flame in Anakin’s lower belly.

It doesn’t help that, as they kiss, Obi-Wan runs his hands through his hair, to squeeze out the water and brush out the knots he’d created with his pulling. He lingers to scratch behind his ears too, and Anakin all but purrs, breaking the kiss to nuzzle his beard.

“We need to sleep,” he mutters reluctantly, knowing that if he’d let him go on, they would definitely struggle to wake up and get back to the mission the next morning.

“Look at you being wise and responsible,” Obi-Wan teases him, but he knows Anakin’s right, so he stops and wraps an arm around his waist to pull him away from the drying vents and into the bedroom.

Anakin keeps his head firmly nested in the curve of Obi-Wan’s neck, leaving butterfly kisses on the skin just under his beard as he lets him guide him to the bed. They don’t even stop to put some clothes on, but Anakin summons an extra blanket from a cupboard as they turn off the lights and get under the covers.

Obi-Wan lies on his back and Anakin curls on top of him like a loth cat, his head on his chest, his flesh arm abandoned across his abdomen and their legs tangled so tightly he doubts they’ll even need the blanket after all.

All he feels, snuggled up to Obi-Wan while one of his hands plays gently with his hair, wrapping his damp curls around his fingers, and the other reaches down to intertwine their fingers together, is peace. And sure, he’s tired and sleepy and still buzzing with the afterglow of his orgasm, but he knows Obi-Wan’s presence would be enough on its own. Just being there with him, being held with such tenderness, their minds fused together, sharing feelings they don’t need to speak aloud, and his heart tight in his chest and full, brimming, bursting with all the love he feels and receives.

And though he knows it, Obi-Wan does say it, whispering it in a kiss pressed to his forehead with the last conscious thought before falling asleep.

“I love you,” he says.

When Anakin moves his head to look up at him, Obi-Wan is already abandoned on the pillows, eyes closed and breath slowing down, but he says it back anyway, knowing that somehow it’ll reach him, even if he doesn’t hear it.

“I love you too,” he whispers, letting it echo in the Force.

He closes his eyes before he can see it, but he still senses that, in the dark, Obi-Wan smiles and squeezes his hand a bit tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a rather simple prompt that kinda went out of control. I'm sorry if it makes very little sense plot-wise, but the plot was never that important to begin with. I hope you liked it anyway!
> 
> Grazie ad Elisa for the support and endless patience in dealing with my self-doubt.
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading, please leave a little comment if you liked this, or come say hi on [twitter](url)!


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